


Pink Camellias

by nelka7122



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hanahaki Disease, Heartbreak, M/M, Shizaya Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nelka7122/pseuds/nelka7122
Summary: Every night before falling asleep, Shizuo would replay the scene in his head, his lips murmuring out those same three words over and over.~~~❀❀❀~~~“I love you.”~~~❀❀❀~~~Too bad Izaya was incapable of love.[Shizaya week 2020 day 2: Hanahaki AU]
Relationships: Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42
Collections: Shizaya Week 2020





	Pink Camellias

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of [Shizaya week.](https://shizayasweek.tumblr.com/post/631307204540170241/shizaya-week-prompts-and-dates)
> 
> Prompt used: Hanahaki AU
> 
> I'm not the biggest fan of Hanahaki overall. I think the concept of the AU is a bit hit or miss in general.  
> I therefore wanted to do something unexpected and a little different with it, even if it is a little sad.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

Shizuo wasn’t quite sure when the lines between them had become so blurred.

It started with them hating each other. Just pure, unadulterated hatred.

Then the chasing, and trying to kill each other.

And somehow killing turned to kissing, and kissing turned to sex.

Hate sex, at first.

Then regular sex, without the hate.

Then came the sides of Izaya Shizuo never thought he would get to see.

The sides that made him vulnerable, the sides that made him happy, the sides that made him _human_.

Then the feelings. And emotions. Until he was falling too hard and too fast.

Then the moving in, and living together.

Then Shizuo told Izaya he loved him.

And Izaya never said it back.

That’s when things started to fall apart.

Then came the petty arguments and disagreements over the silliest of things, like who should wash the dishes or whose turn was it to vacuum.

Petty squabbles turned into shouting, and Shizuo coming home late.

Which turned into Izaya becoming distant and detached. At times he would disappear for days, leaving Shizuo alone in a cold and empty apartment that was far too big for him.

Suddenly the sight of seeing Izaya became unbearable. How was he able to laugh so freely with others but the moment he laid eyes on Shizuo, he would stiffen and drop his smile? How was it that they went to bed without so much as acknowledging each other, with Izaya crying into his pillow in the middle of the night, thinking Shizuo was too deep in his slumber to notice?

Of course he wasn’t, because Shizuo couldn’t sleep.

His thoughts kept him up at night.

He often wondered if it was his fault.

Had he hurt Izaya in some way?

Had he done something to upset him?

He thought about asking him, but there was never an appropriate time he could find.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

Love.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

That was the reason, wasn’t it?

Shizuo shouldn’t have admitted his feelings.

Izaya didn’t feel the same, and they’d transitioned into becoming nothing short of strangers.

Then Shizuo was sleeping on the couch.

And then he was moving back into his previous apartment.

Just like that, the fleeting glimpse of the man Shizuo had once loved was gone from his life.

And Shizuo was fine for a while.

At least, he pretended to be.

He woke up, went to work, got back late, ate, went to sleep.

Over and over, the same mundane routine.

The first month was fine.

Then the second set in, and so did the loneliness.

He missed coming home to another person.

He missed the warmth, the cuddling, the sex.

Even the bickering.

He even tried going on a few dates, all of which ended miserably.

All of which were not Izaya.

By the time the third month came, all he even thought about was Izaya. The man who was no longer in his life suddenly had a greater presence in it than before he’d cut himself out. Every night before falling asleep, Shizuo would replay the scene over and over in his head, his lips murmuring out those same three words over and over.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

“I love you.”

~~~❀❀❀~~~

Too bad Izaya was incapable of love.

Shizuo almost never cried. Not even at his grandmother’s funeral. Yet by the time the fourth month rolled around, he often found himself falling asleep with his cheeks wet and flushed hot.

Until one day he got a phone call.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

“Hello is this Heiwajima Shizuo-san?” The voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Yes,” he answered curtly.

“This is XXX hospital, I’m calling in regards to one of our patients who has you listed as their emergency contact.”

Shizuo’s mouth went dry, his mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusions. Kasuka? His parents?

“Orihara Izaya?”

His breath hitched in his throat and the grip on his phone loosened. The device fell to the ground, the distant sound of the screen cracking echoing in his ears. The hospital worker continued to speak but Shizuo couldn’t hear anything besides an incessant ringing. And then, he grabbed his coat, rushing out of his tiny apartment and running to catch the next available train as fast as he could.

Then he was at the hospital, pushing and shoving personnel out of the way, desperate to get to the reception area; desperate to find out which room Izaya was being held in. Finally, he did, and more running, more pushing until he was being told to calm down, else he would be escorted off the premises.

So he slowed down his movements, if only for a moment, until he opened to door to Izaya’s room.

He saw Izaya laying in the hospital bed, looking like a hollowed out husk of himself: an empty shell of someone he used to be, with dark circles under his eyes and dried blood staining the corners of his lips. Shizuo’s heart shattered, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He walked up to him and knelt down by his bedside, wondering what he should say, if anything at all.

Tentatively, he reached forward and brushed his fingers against Izaya’s pale, bony hand.

Izaya’s eyes fluttered open slowly. Those once vibrant orbs full of mischief looked glum and colorless, devoid of all life.

“Shizu-chan?” he asked weakly.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming for days on end. For a moment, Shizuo was too stunned to speak. He opened his mouth once, only to close it as no words came out.

“Wait… I know. Emergency contact, right?” Izaya asked, and Shizuo curtly nodded.

“S-sorry about that, I’ll…I’ll change it later,” Izaya continued and offered him a weak smile, trying to mask the pain he felt inside. Shizuo finally found the strength to speak.

“I don’t care about that. W-what happened?” He asked shakily, his hand tightening around Izaya’s cold fingers.

“Ah well… Seems like karma finally caught up to me…” Izaya trailed, choking out a small laugh that only looked painful for him. His laugh turned into a fit of coughs, which then transition into hearth wrenching hacking, his body lurching forward as he tried to expel whatever it was in his lungs that was making him cough so violently. One after the other, each one becoming more incessant than the last, staining his hand with little drops of red.

“Ah-“ he gasped as he reached for a nearby tissue box. Shizuo was quicker than him and grabbed the box before pulling out one of the white tissues and grabbing Izaya’s hand to wipe away the blood.

“Here,” he offered as he wiped the tissue along the edges of Izaya’s lips. Then, he transitioned to his hand, and hesitated for a moment as he saw something among the splatters of blood.

Flower petals.

Pink camellias, stained crimson.

Shizuo stiffened, the realization suddenly dawning on him. He gripped the tissue in his hand, crumpling it into a tight ball.

“So…you’re in love with someone then?” he whispered, his voice unsteady. Izaya took a few ragged breaths and nodded his head, confirming Shizuo’s suspicions. Shizuo bit down on his bottom lip, so hard he almost pierced it with his teeth.

“With who?”

The question came softly, gently, and so full of anguish.

“Does it matter?”

Came Izaya’s dejected murmur of an answer.

Shizuo moved to gripping the metal railing of the hospital bed instead, bending it entirely out of shape. Izaya’s words were like a stab to his heart, and for a moment it was like he was the one who couldn’t breathe, not Izaya.

Izaya loved someone.

Izaya loved someone that wasn’t Shizuo.

Izaya loved someone who was slowly and unwittingly killing him.

And Shizuo wished he could do something about it.

He wished, but even with all the strength in the world, he was left weak and powerless.

“It does if you’re dying,” he breathed out desperately. The words slipping past his lips felt surreal. Orihara Izaya, actually laying on his death bed in a hospital, with his face hollow and eyes sunken in. With his arms as thin as sticks and lungs slowly losing all functionality. Shizuo had never expected in all his life he would see Izaya like this, but Izaya was no god.

He was still human.

And that reality finally set in as he stared at Izaya’s unchanging expression, wondering why he was so unshaken by his eminent passing.

“No…I…” he started, his voice quiet and barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be getting the surgery…to get it removed.”

The initial emotion Shizuo felt was relief. Relief that Izaya will live, that he will pull through, that he’ll manage. Relief that quickly turned into bitterness as his own selfishness set in. That little spark of hope, the painful longing that maybe, just maybe, they could still fix what they had. That Izaya could come to love him. Put out before it even had a chance to ignite.

“You know you’ll never love again,” he said, and Izaya’s eyes glazed back to him with such an expression, as if looking at him was causing him internal torment.

“I know.”

The anger should have set in by now. Shizuo should be angry, furious even. How could Izaya do this to himself? How could everything that they’ve ever built up come crashing down so hard, like a stack of dominoes with no end. Each one continuing to topple over the next one in line. And the next, and the next. Each piece falling equating to a little part of Shizuo’s heart withering like the dying flowers in Izaya’s lungs.

Shizuo should be angry.

Instead, all he wanted to do was put his head against Izaya’s chest and close his eyes, listening to his heartbeat and hoping that it never stopped.

The nurse walked in shortly after, informing Shizuo that visiting hours have ended and that he needed to leave. She told him if he would like to come back, it should be in two days to pick Izaya up after his surgery. Shizuo felt like he was stuck in a fever dream, his body moving on its own with him being too numb to register his own movements.

Too numb to say anything.

Too numb to feel the aching in his chest.

The moment he stepped out of the hospital, all emotions suddenly crashed into him like a tsunami, destroying everything in its wake and drowning him in his own sorrow.

He punched the metal hospital sign, bending it completely out of shape and not paying any mind to the little drops of blood blossoming on his knuckles.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

Two days felt like an eternity.

He went through four packs of cigarettes, chain smoking them one after the other. He tried to go to work, only to be sent straight back home by Tom, who had quickly caught on to his restless and agitated mood. Normally he would have protested against it, but this time he was too tired to argue.

He stayed in bed all day, laying on his back with the clock ticking away the seconds until everything would be over. Not eating, not drinking, just hoping that the clock would stop ticking, and that all time would cease to exist.

Finally the day arrived, and he dragged himself back to the hospital.

Izaya still looked just as sickly as ever. The sight of him set chills running down Shizuo’s spine. How could someone so boisterous look so frail? So broken, with dark bags under his tired, red rimmed eyes.

“So?” Shizuo asked tentatively, his whole body shaking with anticipation. Izaya cracked a dry smile, masking his sorrow.

“I’m fine. Just have to stay in the hospital a little longer, that’s all,” he answered quietly.

“You got the surgery then…”

“Yes. I did. So you can go home now.”

How Shizuo hated when Izaya said things that only drove the wedge further and further in between them.

“I want to stay,” he confessed, nervously shifting his gaze around the room. Anything as to not look at Izaya’s thin frame, or see the blank look in his lifeless, unloving eyes.

“And I don’t want you to. There’s no need. I have no use for you.”

Like a mirror shattering with thin webs of cracks spreading through it, Shizuo could picture his own reflection, his face becoming distorted as each fragment broke off from the whole. Each piece of his soul for each crack in the mirror.

“How could you say that?” he whispered sharply. Then the anger did set in. He was angry at Izaya, angry at what he’d done. Moreover, he was angry at himself.

“Because I don’t feel anything.”

Shizuo looked at him, his usually slightly tanned skin now pale as a sheet and his muscles too numb to move.

“So go home, Shizuo.”

Even his name, said plainly without the usual giddiness in Izaya’s intonation. How Shizuo wished, for the first time ever, to be called “Shizu-chan” again.

He turned on his heel, dejected, and opened the door with shaking fingers. Unable to control his strength, he ended up disfiguring the doorknob completely.

Then Izaya started coughing.

Terribly.

Violently.

Body lurching forward, each cough rattling his frame, sucking more and more life out of him.

Without a moment of hesitation, Shizuo released his grip on the doorknob and rushed to Izaya’s side, falling into a panic as he leaned over and grasped his face between his hands, repeating the same word over and over again while caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Why.”

Like a broken record.

Izaya shook his head and grasped Shizuo’s wrists, clinging onto them for dear life. He looked down at his lap, unable to meet Shizuo’s gaze.

“Because…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get the surgery,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“Who? Who is worth loving so much that you would rather _die_?” Shizuo asked, forcing Izaya to look up at him. He could see tears prodding at the corners of his eyes, tears he’d been trying so hard to hide all this time.

“You,” he croaked. Shizuo stared at him, eyes wide in disbelief. He wondered if he’d heard Izaya correctly, or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, making him hear things he only wanted to hear.

“I would rather die loving you than live never loving you again. Even if…you don’t love me,” he continued, each word he managed to utter causing him more and more distress. Shizuo leaned forward and placed his lips against Izaya’s forehead in a tender kiss.

“But I do…I never stopped loving you,” he murmured against his clammy skin.

He was crying now too, trying hard to bury his tears in Izaya’s dark hair. Izaya released his hold on Shizuo’s wrists and leaned into his touch, grasping at the collar of his shirt and burying his face into his chest.

“T-then why did everything fall apart? W-why did you leave?” Izaya choked into his shirt. Shizuo could feel wet warmth seeping into the white fabric. Whether it was tears or blood, that he couldn’t be sure of.

“We should have tried harder. _I_ should have tried harder. I shouldn’t have left, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, peppering the top of Izaya’s head with small kisses.

“I just wish…I wish-“

So many things. He wished for so many things.

“It’s too late now,” Izaya muttered. His voice was almost gone.

Shizuo pulled away and stared into his eyes.

“No. No, no. It’s not too late. It’s not-“ he gasped, exasperated as he wiped away cascading tears running down Izaya’s cheeks.

“Shizuo,” Izaya whispered and Shizuo shook his head vigorously.

“No.”

He brought his lips to brush gently against Izaya’s.

“Shizuo…I can’t…breathe,” he struggled to cough out, his voice coming out gurgled and distorted.

“No. You can’t do this to me Izaya. You can’t.”

Shizuo kissed him again.

A kiss that was meant to breathe life back into him, but ended up robbing him of his last breath.

“Izaya no, stay with me. Don’t leave me.”

His pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Please. Izaya,” he whispered, cradling Izaya’s now still body.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

“I love you “

~~~❀❀❀~~~

His words too quiet to be heard over the shrill EKG flat line echoing around the room.

~~~❀❀❀~~~

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you,”

Shizuo murmured as he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

“I wish you could answer me.”

He exhaled.

“I wish I could hold you one more time.”

Another deep inhale, this one more shaky than the previous one.

“Just once would be enough.”

His voice quivered.

“Ikebukuro isn’t the same without you around.”

He threw his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.

“I miss you.”

He leaned forward and placed a single pink flower on top of the gray slab of stone in front of him.

“Don’t worry though…” He whispered.

Then, he coughed. Two times, each one shaking his body and expelling liquid out of his lungs.

He looked at his hand, small splotches of crimson staining it, with pink flowers buried under all the red.

The same pink camellia he’d placed on the grave in front of him.

“I’ll be coming to see you soon.”

~~~❀❀❀~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Camellias symbolize love, and pink camellias in particular symbolize longing.  
> I was debating on adding an alternate ending but I think I'll leave it as it is, since it takes away the weight of the current one.  
> Sometimes happy endings exist, but sometimes life is cruel, and unfortunate. And things happen.


End file.
